Learning to Fly
by Arallute
Summary: Having recently met, Poe and Rey realize they share a passion for flying. Perhaps this shared interest will one day blossom into a passion for each other? This short story is really a prologue to my (much-longer) fanfic "Charged Particles," but can of course be read independently.
1. The X-wing

**34 ABY**

 _It would be a crime not to be outside on an evening like this,_ Poe Dameron thought to himself. The air on D'Qar was not as humid as usual, the breeze warm and flower-scented. It reminded him of his homeworld of Yavin IV. So he left the safety of the Resistance base and wandered out towards his favorite spot in the jungle. He stopped short when he reached the clearing—his clearing, _his_ spot—because an interloper was occupying it.

"Hi," he greeted. "You're on my log."

The young woman turned around, eyebrows raised. He recognized Rey, the scavenger turned Jedi apprentice. Finn's friend. _"Your_ log?" She didn't look particularly concerned about her annexation of his meditation spot. She pursed her lips and patted the free space next to her. "There's room for two."

He accepted the invitation, sitting at what he hoped was a friendly but polite distance. "I come here to look at the stars sometimes," he said, just to fill the silence.

Rey nodded and looked up. "I used to do that a lot. But the stars are strange here." She paused. "I mean, they look different from here. I mean, not really different, they're still just stars, like all stars are stars, but their positions are different. At least, to me," she ended awkwardly.

Poe scanned the heavens, ignoring her apparent nervousness. "Well, the Western Reaches are over there," he pointed, "if you're looking for Jakku's neighbors. You can't see them from here, though."

She stared at that part of the sky, then shook her head. "It doesn't help. They're still all wrong."

"Yeah, wrong angle, I guess," he agreed easily. He looked sideways at her. "You lived your whole life on Jakku?"

She glanced back at him cautiously. "Since I was five."

"What did you…do there? I mean, when you weren't scavenging ships. What did you do for fun?"

Surprised by the question, she was mute for a few moments.

"If you'd rather not talk about it," Poe said hurriedly, "we can—"

"No, it's fine," she interrupted. "But I didn't really do anything for fun. I slept. I tried to fix the parts I'd found, because I'd earn more if they worked. And I…" she trailed off, shrugged. She looked at Poe again, as if gauging whether or not to trust him with anything personal. He met her gaze. _She has really beautiful eyes,_ he thought. _Brown from a distance, but almost green close up._

"I found a crashed X-wing when I was nine," she said suddenly, ending Poe's train of thought. "I buried the pilot, but kept her helmet and flight suit. I made a doll for myself out of a bit of the orange material. So I played with that doll a lot. Talked to her, you know," she smiled shyly.

"You found an X-wing…where? In the desert?" Immediately, Poe regretted the stupid question.

She furrowed her brow. "Yeah, in the desert. The whole planet is a desert." She spoke lightly, like she was trying not to patronize him. She almost succeeded. Changing the subject, she stretched her arms over her head, cracking her shoulder joints. "This log isn't that comfortable after a while."

"Yeah, I usually sit on the ground when I reach that point." He moved down to the cool earth, leaning his back against the log. He removed his jacket and offered it to her. "You look cold."

"I'm always cold here." Belatedly, she added, "Thank you." It pleased Poe to see her wearing his flight jacket; he didn't analyze why. She sat down next to him, snuggling a little closer than on the log. That fact pleased Poe more than wearing the jacket did.

"So what did you do with the helmet? You said you saved the pilot's helmet."

She gave him a sheepish smile. "I used to eat outside, in the _desert_ "-she emphasized the word— _"_ in front of my AT-AT. And after dinner, I'd put the helmet on and imagine places where the pilot might have flown."

Poe mulled that over. She had some creativity, then. But what a lonely existence, just her and a doll and a dead Rebel's helmet. He didn't mention any of that. "You owned an AT-AT?"

She smiled. "An old abandoned wreck of one, from the Battle of Jakku. It was my…home."

"Did you live in the legs or the head part?" He was trying to picture an Imperial Walker's size.

"The belly."

"How did you get up into its belly every day? You rappelled?"

She laughed despite herself. "It was on its side. I just walked in." She mimicked a tipped-over AT-AT with her forearm.

"Oh," Poe said. "Sorry, I'm usually not such an idiot," he muttered. She still wore a wide, toothy grin. Her nose crinkled slightly when she smiled. She had two freckles on her neck. Her teeth were straight. Her lips looked soft. Poe forced himself to drag his gaze away from her face before he got too obvious.

"I did something else for fun, too," she said reflectively. "That pilot, she had a flight simulator on board. A working one. I ran sims every evening, to teach myself how to fly."

The mention of flying caught Poe's attention enough to get his mind off of Rey's beautiful face. "Ooh. What kind of ships?"

"All sorts, really. Fighters, supply ships, freighters, even Corellian Corvettes."

The conversation flowed much more easily once the topic was ships. They debated the relative merits of X-wings and TIE Fighters, B-wings and Naboo N-1s, until nightfall. While walking back to the base, Poe offered, "If you'd like to fly a real X-wing, I'll take you up in my T-70."

She stopped walking and stared at him.

"I mean, if you want," he added, uncertain if she was offended or intrigued by the idea.

She broke into that grin again, the one that made Poe forget what the topic was. "I'd love that," she gushed. "Tomorrow, then?"

"Yeah, sure. After the morning briefing." Then he realized: _Did I just ask her on a date?_

* * *

 _Did he just ask me on a date?_ Rey thought to herself, then dismissed the notion. He was a pilot, she wanted to learn to fly, that's all there was to it. She needed a teacher. Kylo Ren's words echoed in her head; he'd told her that same thing on Starkiller Base. She pushed that thought away too. She'd rather concentrate on Poe Dameron than Kylo Ren, anyway.

She showed up in the hanger promptly at 0930. Poe was already there, in his orange flight suit, hair messy as always. He smiled easily when he saw her. "Hey," he waved.

"Good morning," she said cheerfully. "Reporting for my lesson, Commander."

"Okay, so, you need to get used to the cockpit. Come on up." She scaled the small ladder into his black-matte X-wing. The chair was more comfortable than she'd imagined.

"I guess I'll just stand on the ladder." He leaned over her and explained each of the controls one by one, including the correct start-up sequence.

"I know all this," Rey cut in. "I've been practicing it for ten years." _Master Luke would scold me for my impatience,_ she thought. It was her worst fault as a would-be Jedi.

"On a T-65, not a 70. The newer model is a little different."

She gave him an indulgent look. "I think I've got it."

"Okay, then. Hold on a sec." He descended the ladder, then came back with a blue and white helmet. He smiled. "Look familiar?"

"Mine had yellow markings," she murmured.

"Ah. Well, get out for a minute, and let me in."

"I don't get to pilot her?" Rey stuck her lower lip out unhappily as she climbed out of the ship.

Poe grinned. "Are you pouting? You're pouting."

"I am not pouting at all," she protested. "Just…I thought I'd fly."

"This is my _baby._ You can fly her, but I'm comin' with you." He settled into the cockpit and patted his thighs. "You should sit on my lap," Poe said hesitatingly. "There's not really room for two to sit side by side."

Rey frowned, then complied, settling herself on his legs. She was very aware of the warmth radiating from his body—or hers?—and hoped that space was cold enough to keep her from sweating. His breath was on her neck, his arms very loosely around her sides. "Am I…squishing you?"

Poe shook his head. "You're light as a feather. Helmet on, close the canopy, and turn her on." He sounded detached, professional. She tried to match his tone and concentrate on flying. After all, Rey had wanted to pilot a snub fighter like this since she was little, and was truly excited by this chance; she just had never imagined the opportunity would present itself with an impossibly handsome pilot underneath her.

They spent the next twenty minutes in the air, not straying too far from D'Qar. Rey forgot about Poe's proximity as soon as she was in the blackness of space. She thoroughly enjoyed the freedom of flight and the satisfaction of mastering a beautiful machine. To his credit, Poe quickly realized she did truly know what she was doing, and let her have control, only occasionally making suggestions and adjustments.

The landing was a little bumpy—she'd have to work on take-offs and landings, Poe ordered mildly—but Rey felt elated. She opened the canopy, took off the helmet and gifted him with an ear-splitting grin. "That was stellar!" she exclaimed. "I have _got_ to get one of these." She didn't move off his lap, but half-turned to look at him. Her expression grew more serious. "Thank you. This was one of the best experiences of my entire life." She looked straight at him. His eyes were the color of the hot chocolate General Organa made for her.

Poe looked blown away by her admission. "The best…? Rey, we can go flying any time you want. Unless I'm on a mission. Or we're under attack. Or something," he stumbled. That smile again—it was distracting. Her exotic eyes didn't help matters, either. And she was still on his lap, her left hip pressing into his thigh as she twisted around to look at him. _Finn's, not yours,_ he told himself firmly. _Finn. Your friend._

Rey sensed his sudden jumble of emotions. He was biting his lip, staring at her face, and she wasn't sure what to make of that. She felt herself begin to blush. So she lifted herself out of the cockpit, scrambling down the ladder as elegantly as she could manage. He followed.

"It's not like flying a snub fighter," she said casually as they walked back towards the base, "but if you'd like to try out a bigger bird, we could go up in the _Millennium Falcon."_

She glanced at him. His mouth was hanging open, jaw slack. She smiled at the view.

"What?" Poe breathed.

"If you want. Sometime. General Organa sort of gave her to me. She's a really interesting ship to fly, very quirky, but just about as responsive as an X-wing. And," she added with a smirk, "you could have your own seat."

"The _Falcon?"_ he repeated dumbly.

"You've heard of her, haven't you?"

"Of course I've heard of the _Millennium Falcon!_ It's…history," he sputtered.

"So you want to fly her?"

Poe looked at Rey, this time without a trace of flirtation. Now he was all business. He spoke quickly, in little starbursts. "Oh, hell yes. Absolutely yes. Emphatically yes. Whenever you want. Right now. Middle of the night. During an alien invasion. I really don't care."

She tilted her head in amusement, charmed by his sense of humor. "I've got to go check in with Master Luke now. I've got training. Soon, though?"

He bobbed his head up and down like a little boy. "Great." He watched her walk away, then called out as an afterthought, "It was nice flying with you, Rey."

She turned back and gave him a small smile. "You, too." She looked at the ground, then back up at him. "Thank you for the chance." Then she resumed her walk out of the hanger.

Poe felt suddenly, unpleasantly alone. He realized he still craved her company, an unfamiliar sensation for him. Impulsively, he ran back to the T-70's cockpit, retrieved Rey's flight helmet, and jogged to catch up with her. "Wait a sec," he called to her, handing her the helmet. "For later," he said earnestly. She seemed to look right through him, eyes very focused on his face. He stumbled through an explanation. "In case you want to, you know, imagine anyone. Any _thing_ , I mean. Like space. Or piloting. Or the stars around Jakku."

Rey grinned, accepting the gift with a nod and ignoring his slip of the tongue. "Thanks. Again."

As she once again turned away from him to go find Master Skywalker, Poe rolled his eyes at his own gawkiness. "Get a grip on yourself, Dameron," he muttered. They were in the middle of a war, she was training to be a probably-celibate Jedi Knight, and his good friend Finn had a serious crush on her. Three very good reasons, he admonished himself, to keep his mind off of Rey.

He just hoped he could remember those three reasons the next time she was near him.


	2. Sandwiches and Bang-Corn

**Hi, everyone. This story was supposed to be just a one-chapter piece, but after receiving a lot of 'favorites' and positive comments, I thought I'd expand on it. Thank you so much for supporting me, and my version of Poe and Rey!**

 **According to my head canon, Rey is Han and Leia's daughter. She knows this, but Poe doesn't yet, so she'll refer to Leia as "General Organa" in front of him.**

 **And Leia makes an appearance in this chapter, because…you know.**

* * *

Still feeling buoyant after his flight with Rey, Poe Dameron headed to the mess hall for lunch. He spotted Finn and sat down across from him. He slapped Finn's shoulder in greeting, careful to avoid the still-fresh scar on his friend's back.

"Hey, how's the chow today?"

Finn looked up from his plate, cheerful as usual. "Still better than First Order food." He noticed Poe's broad smile and cocked an eyebrow. "Why're you in such a good mood?"

The smile vanished. "Oh, no reason," Poe said nonchalantly. He'd already decided not to mention his morning with Rey; nothing had really happened between them, yet he felt unable to discuss her without his heart racing. He didn't want Finn noticing and feeling jealous. Instead, he bit off a piece of his friend's sandwich and spoke while chewing. "Any luck with your, uh, genealogical research?"

"Not much," Finn replied glumly. "It'd help if I knew my exact birthday, but I just know the year. So I've been searching records for children my age kidnapped around the time I was. It's pretty slow going. The First Order took so many…." He trailed off. "Anyway, I'm not optimistic. I thought maybe Rey would want to search with me—you know, find her birth parents—but she doesn't even want to try."

Poe shrugged. "Well, not everyone needs to know where they came from, I guess." He paused. "How _did_ she end up on Jakku? Has she told you?"

"She said she was left there when she was about five. They told her that she was supposed to wait for her family to come back and get her. I'm not sure if her parents were the ones who abandoned her, or somebody else."

"But," Poe said, "why would her parents dump a little girl in a place like Jakku and then plan on coming back? Makes no sense."

"It didn't seem to make much sense to her, either. Han Solo grilled her about it when she told us the story on the way to Takodana."

"Why would he care?"

"Got me. Maybe he was just curious, making conversation with Rey. But I got the feeling he knew more about it than he was letting on. He asked her all kinds of questions." Finn stopped talking long enough to eat a little more of his lunch, then continued. "You know what's weird? I got the feeling that Solo, Chewie, even Maz Kanata know more about Rey than she knows about herself."

Poe stole another bite from Finn's plate. "I don't see how they could. But she is…" He searched for the requisite word. "Intriguing."

"I've been telling you that for weeks now."

"I know, I know." Poe searched his friend's face. "So are you two, uh, still just friends?"

Finn's eyes skipped away in embarrassment. "Well, I'm not…I mean, I don't know what…" He stopped abruptly and smiled broadly over Poe's shoulder. "Hi, there!"

Poe turned to see a beaming Rey bouncing over to them. "Hi," she called breathlessly. She sat next to Finn and immediately stole the rest of his sandwich. "May I?"

"Sure, everyone else is," Finn said with a pointed look at Poe, who stared back in wide-eyed innocence.

"Did Poe tell you about my first flight in an X-wing?" Rey asked Finn.

He shot Poe another look. "No, but he was about to."

The pilot tried to downplay it. "Oh, we went flying this morning. She really knows what she's doing in a cockpit." He smiled at her, and was pleased to see her reciprocate.

"It was wonderful, Finn," she gushed. "You've got to try it. You get such a feeling of freedom and endless possibility, and it all looks so beautiful from the sky, like everything in the heavens is right where it ought to be, like it's all been perfectly designed, and.…" She trailed off, seeing Finn's befuddlement. "Well, it's wonderful," she repeated.

Finn shrugged. "I don't get why you two get such a kick out of flying. I'd rather be on the ground. It's a lot more predictable. And, you know, solid."

Poe stared at Rey with new understanding. _So_ that's _what I like about her,_ he thought. _She gets it._ It was a bond he hadn't shared with anyone since his mother died. He realized he was still looking admiringly at Rey, and that Finn was watching him watch her. Jealous, maybe? Poe didn't want to compete with his friend for a woman's affections—there were plenty of women on base whom Finn didn't have a crush on. _Retreat_ , he ordered himself regretfully. He stood up. "Well, I've got a meeting to get to. I'll see you guys later." He threw them a tight smile before leaving.

He did want to talk to Rey again, but not in front of Finn. Somehow, he was going to have to find an excuse to interact. Maybe he'd take her up on her offer to go up in the _Millennium Falcon;_ that certainly held promise. And Poe assured himself that he would stay purely professional.

* * *

Leia Organa's were eyes rimmed with red. She still frequently found herself in tears, unexpectedly, at banal moments whenever she wasn't busy fighting a war. Today, the crying had begun while she was putting away dishes. It wasn't that dishes reminded her of Han. Perhaps the monotony of the task is what gave her mind the freedom to wander into the corners where her beloved still resided.

But right now there was someone knocking outside, so she lifted her chin, dried her eyes and steeled herself before opening the door.

"Poe," she greeted her guest. She immediately assumed they were under attack—he would never come to her quarters otherwise. "What's wrong?"

He was taken aback. "Oh, nothing, General."

"What's the matter, then?" Leia was fully alert now.

"Nothing," Poe repeated. "I'm sorry to disturb you so late," he fumbled. He noticed her splotchy face and red eyes, and felt like an intruder. No one should ever see General Organa looking like less than a leader. He averted his gaze and murmured, "I was just wondering if Rey was here, and might still be awake."

When Rey had first arrived on D'Qar, just after the assault on Starkiller Base, General Organa had taken the waifish scavenger under her wing. Rey never even got assigned quarters; she just moved right in to Organa's second room. So if Poe wanted to talk to her, he had to come to the general's quarters. It was an odd situation, reminding him of a girl he'd dated on Yavin IV whose suspicious father had never warmed to him.

Organa interrupted his reverie. "Oh, of course," she said as politely as a senator should. "Come on in." She held the door open for Poe and gestured to the common room. "Rey? You have a guest."

Rey was sitting on the couch, legs tucked up under her, dressed in violet pajamas which made her look even younger than she was. She was watching a smashball game on the holovid. Poe sauntered over and sat next to her on the couch. "You like smashball?" It didn't seem her style.

"No," she said amiably. "Well, not yet. I'm trying to like it. A bunch of the pilots were talking about tonight's match, so I thought I'd try to watch, but I've got no idea what's happening." She handed him a large bowl of bang-corn. "Want some?"

Poe accepted the bowl with a nod and leaned back, looking thoughtfully at the screen. "Who's playing?"

"Corellia against Karfeddion. The teams are named the Dreadnaughts and the Skull Crackers. Since Han Solo was Corellian, I'm rooting for the Dreadnaughts. But that's about all I can tell you. There's a ball, obviously, and everyone's trying to get it. If they manage to chuck it to the end of the field, they get a point. But they keep…uh…."

"Smashing into each other?" Poe finished with a smile.

She looked at him seriously. "Yeah. It's a truly ridiculous game. Are the people forced to play it? They sort of look like they're enjoying themselves, even when they're getting bashed."

Poe took another handful of the snacks. "Well, they're professionals, so they're getting paid, but yeah, they play 'cause they enjoy it." He shrugged. "Some people like getting hit, I guess."

Rey snorted. "I guess. Pass the bowl, please." With the corn in her lap, she turned to face him; the view of Commander Dameron was much better than the smashball game. "Do you know what this is?" she asked enthusiastically, gesturing to the food. "It's actually a vegetable. It's got a kernel at the center, and if you heat the kernel enough, it actually _explodes_ into this little bite-sized puff. It sounds daft but it's really quite tasty."

Poe strove to look serious and pleasantly interested, though he wanted to burst out laughing. "Huh." He tried to think of something interesting to add on the subject of exploding vegetables, but failed. Rey's charming smile, the smell of shampoo in her still-damp hair, and the translucent material of the purple pajamas were all very distracting to him, causing all rational thoughts in his brain to pop like bang-corn.

Luckily, General Organa glided in and rescued him from his stupefaction.

"Sorry to interrupt," she said smoothly. "Rey, it's customary to offer food and drink to a guest."

He stood as she entered. She was still a princess, after all, whether she cared about the trappings of royalty or not. Rey put the bowl on the floor, nodded obediently at the elder woman, and led Poe into the kitchen area. Leia retreated to her bedroom.

"I'm afraid we haven't got any of that bubbly water you like," Rey commented. "What else are you in the mood for?"

"How about a drink?"

She stared at him. "Right. I'm offering you a drink. It's 'customary,' I've been told."

"No, I mean, a _drink_ drink." She knitted her brow. "An alcoholic drink," he clarified. "I'm off duty tomorrow. Which is why I came over, by the way. I wanted to know if you'd like to go flying."

"Oh. Sure. In the _Falcon?_ "

"I mean, if you're not busy."

She smiled. "No, not really. I've got training with Master Luke, but I can go up with you first." She turned to the kitchen cabinets. "Somewhere, there are some bottles of something…ah, here we go." She gestured, and Poe's eyebrows rose at the selection of liquor.

"Wow." He read the labels. "This brandy is twenty-five years old." He looked at Rey in astonishment. "This one's almost twenty. And this one's twenty- _nine!_ That's…wow. Twenty-nine year-old Corellian brandy. Tarkenian nightflower. Bespin port. This is arallute gin from _Alderaan_ , practically priceless…." He shook his head. "We can't drink any of this stuff."

"Oh, why not," chimed in the General, who'd returned. "Chances are pretty good that we'll be vaporized before we can enjoy much more of it." His eyes widened at her black humor, but she just smiled good-naturedly at him. "I'll join you." She chose one of the bottles and opened it. "My husband bought a good Corellian brandy every time we had a baby. We figured that by the time the kids would be old enough to drink it, it'd be aged enough to be drinkable." Her tone was even, conversational. _Dead husband, dead children,_ Poe thought. _How can she do this? How is she still standing?_

Leia poured the twenty-five year-old vintage into three round glasses. "What are we toasting?" she asked Poe.

Poe thought furiously through the catalogue of his father's many sayings until his mind seized upon an appropriate one. "May we always give without remembering, and take without forgetting." He clinked glasses with the general, then with Rey, and took a small sip. Rey choked on her brandy. Leia, however, downed the entire glass in one long gulp, making Poe's jaw drop. "You drink like a fighter pilot, Your Highness," he observed.

She smiled, for once not bridling at the reference to her title, and poured herself another round. "No, more like a woman who's been through too much in her life, and wishes things were different. Wishful drinking, I suppose." She quickly polished off the second brandy, placed the glass down on the counter. "Well, I'm off to bed. Good night, you two."

Poe and Rey watched her leave. "She's the reason I joined the Resistance," he whispered in awe.


	3. Freetime

_**My "inner**_ _ **Poe" requested that I change the rating of this story. If you don't like reading smut, please skip down to Finn's part below; his experiences are slightly different than his pilot friend's.**_

* * *

 **Poe**

I look both ways before leaving General Organa's quarters. There's plenty of gossip on a closed base like ours, but there's no way I'm letting her good name—or Rey's—become part of that kind of talk. It doesn't matter, though; the corridor's completely empty at this hour. I can hear a bunch of happy voices coming from the commons, so I guess the Resistance has got more Dreadnaughts fans than Skull Crackers.

I turn a corner and nearly collide with a woman. Her head's down, she's stomping rather than walking, and she looks pissed. But she turns apologetic when she sees me. "Oh, pardon me, Commander Dameron."

"No problem, Lieutenant." I'm just reading the bars on her uniform; I don't know her well. A ground trooper, I think. Mikuru, is that her name? Mikuru something.

I start to move past her, but she casually says, "You're up late," so I turn back.

"Yeah, I was watching the smashball game."

She smirks. "I was having a smashball game of my own. I just broke up with Tig. He dumped me, can you believe that? After three months, he just ended it."

Tig's our slicer, a really good one…and he knows it. God, he's arrogant. Nothing wrong with taking pride in your work, but Tig's just a dick. I don't know why she's talking to me about this, though. Two glasses of most-excellent Corellian brandy have gone to my head, and after spending an hour on a couch with a sweet girl I want and can't have, well, I just want to go back to my quarters and mope. Maybe commiserate with BB-8. He's quite sympathetic, as non-sentient balls go.

"Sorry to hear that," I murmur to Mikuru, though I'm not.

She tilts her head speculatively, and says in a very different tone of voice, "So if you don't have any plans now, you wanna spend some time with me? I've heard that you have some…skills besides flying an X-wing." Her frank gaze runs down my body and then back up to my face.

Oh, my. I'm game; it sure beats moping. She's got beautiful hair, thick and straight and blue-black. It's pulled very primly into two long braids, which I have a sudden urge to mess with. I pick up a braid, twirl it between my fingers. It's glossy, silky, not like Rey's hair. I hold her stare for a few heartbeats. "I might have some talent in other areas."

Ten minutes later, the braids are undone and her hair is a silky riot above me, tickling my fingers and forearms. My hands are splayed against her hips. Her eyes are closed, her brow furrowed, and she's muttering "damn him, damn him" as she rides me. I've played the role of boy toy plenty of times before, but for some reason it's bothering me right now. I mean, we're both just placeholders for other people and we both know it, but she doesn't have to be so kriffing disengaged. She's not even smiling at me.

Rey has a beautiful smile, wide and honest. A radiant smile.

Oh, for gods' sakes. Stop it, Poe. Enough.

I sit up suddenly, still inside Mikuru, cradling her round face in my hands and pressing my mouth hard onto hers. She moans, looks straight at me while tracing the line of my lip with her tongue. This is an improvement. I want her to know exactly where she is and whom she's with. And I want her moaning for me-not thinking about anyone else. I pull away, flip her onto her back, run my hands possessively over her. She's got a soldier's body, hard muscle under tight skin, calloused hands. I kiss my way from her face down to her clenched belly, then lower, gently pulling her legs apart by holding one slim ankle. Her body arches. _Now_ she's engaged, I think smugly, and whisper, "That's better."

I'm still not into it, though. It's not boring, exactly, just…soulless. I want more. Maybe I'm getting too old for this kind of casual sport. But I'm here now, and I'm certainly not going to reject her; nobody should be that cruel to another. So I concentrate on making her feel good. I pull both of her ankles way up, near her head—who knew basic training made them this flexible?—and plunge back into her. She shrieks in pleasure, grabs my ass to push me deeper into her. I give her a couple of little love-bites on the neck as a souvenir for her and Tig the slicer. The thought of that is somehow more satisfying for me than the actual sex is. But it's good enough for her, apparently. It had better be; after all, I've got a reputation to uphold. The lady always comes first.

She finally rolls over to the side of the bed with a contented groan and an almost-smile on her face. "Do you know," she purrs, "that your name contains the words 'oh, damn'?"

"Huh?" I say dumbly, searching around the darkened room for my pants.

"Poe Dameron. If you take off the first and last letters, you get 'oh damn.'" She stretches like a sleepy feline. "It really suits you. You should thank your parents for giving you the perfect name."

I've got my clothes on now. "My parents are dead," I inform her as I leave.

 **Finn**

There are only a couple of ways in which life with the Resistance is anything like being a stormtrooper. One is mess hall food, which is normally bland and served on a tray. The other is the physical fitness training; we have to stay in shape. I've always liked that stuff, strength training or combat fighting or whatever. The Resistance commanders make sure you don't get hurt, totally different than General Hux's 'survival of the strongest' ideology. So even if you just look at the similarities, things here are definitely an improvement. Most importantly, I've got my freedom here. I can leave anytime I want. I don't want to, but I _could._ Maybe that's why I'm so willing to stay.

Besides, the Resistance has women! Female stormtroopers are housed and trained separately from the males, so fraternization with them was absolutely out of the question. They used to give us injections to curb our sexual desire, so we were never really tempted, even by other men.

But this base is…well, a hell of a lot better in that respect. Humans and other sentients of every color and background, men and women, all equal here. We even work out together. I'm doing my morning jog through the jungle with a bunch of officers and soldiers, including some women who look awfully good in shorts and sweaty tops. This is so much more motivating than Hux's methods. Unbelievably so. It's pretty informal, too; we're allowed to talk and laugh if we want. After a couple of klicks of jogging, we slow to a walk, giving me the chance to have a conversation with my best friend, Poe.

"What're you doing after breakfast? Going on patrol?"

"No, I've got the day off. I've been invited to fly the _Millennium Falcon,_ if you can believe that."

I glance sideways at Poe. "You're going flying with Chewbacca? Do you speak…uh, whatever his language is?"

"It's Shyriiwook, and no, I don't. I'm going up with Rey."

"Rey?" I don't mean to, but my voice squeaks like a little boy when I say the name. "Just Rey? Just the two of you? Not with the Wookiee?" I'm not jealous. Or maybe I am, but I don't want to _sound_ jealous. Rey loves to fly and she's great at it. So's Poe. They have this shared passion that I just don't get, and that's probably all this is. Right? They're just going flying. I can't flip out every time Rey talks to a man. Even a strikingly handsome man.

I'm looking at Poe, confirming that he really is as gorgeous as people say he is, so of course I trip over a tree root. He puts a hand on my arm to steady me, and laughs. "Gotta always watch out for big green things."

I scowl at him. "This place is crawling with green things. And bumpy things. And reptile things."

"That's why they call it the 'jungle,' buddy." He smiles, then turns a little more serious. "And yeah, it's just me and Rey. Is that okay with you?"

"Yeah. Sure. Fine. Why wouldn't it be?" I try to look as nonchalant as I can. "I just missed the part when you two became such good friends."

Poe shakes his head. "We're not," he says, too quickly. "I mean, we started talking about flying the other day, and that led to me asking her…" He interrupts himself. "It's okay if we're friends, right?"

" 'Course."

Poe stops and lets the others pass us by before continuing. He looks right at me. "Finn, you and I aren't in competition with each other."

I shrug. "She can do whatever she wants. If she wants to be with you, it's her choice."

"Sure, but she won't want to. Look, you broke into Starkiller Base, a whole planet full of bad guys, just to rescue Rey. And then you picked up a lightsaber and challenged Kylo Ren to a fucking duel in order to protect her. You're _that guy._ You're her hero, okay? That's how she sees you. Any woman would fall for that. It's practically a done deal."

He sounds pretty confident, more confident than I feel. My feelings for Rey aren't like anything I've ever experienced before, but I'm not exactly, you know, a ladies' man. I can talk to her all day long—and pretty often do—but I don't know how I'm ever going to make a move on her.

Poe goes on. "You should've seen her when you were unconscious in the medcenter. She didn't leave your side for two days, until the General deciphered that map and sent Rey off to find Master Skywalker." He stops and sighs. "You're her hero," he repeats.

There's something sad in the way he says that. As if he'd like to be that important to someone. I consider asking him, then think better of it. So I tease him instead. "You should probably just start calling me Hero."

He gives me a lop-sided grin. "Or I could call you Big Deal, like Solo did."

"Yes. I like that," I say mock-seriously. "I _am_ a big deal. And one day, Rey's gonna fall in love with me."

"Right." He doesn't sound completely convinced of that one. Neither am I.

"She is the most beautiful woman in the Resistance, don't you think?"

Poe rubs a hand across his jaw. "I dunno, I've never given it much thought."

"Liar."

He laughs and spreads his hands. "I don't pay much attention to the female form."

"That ain't what I've heard."

"Vicious rumors and unsubstantiated assumptions, my friend." He pats me on the shoulder. "Let's go get breakfast." I nod.

It occurs to me later that Poe never really answered my question about Rey's beauty.


	4. Breakfast

After the required run through the jungle, Poe and Finn—along with the other officers of the Resistance—were as hungry as vornskrs. So as a pack, they headed for the mess hall for breakfast.

Like the majority of the D'Qar base, the mess hall was largely underground, tucked into the verdant protection of the greenery. It was a large, friendly chamber, with large windows near the ceiling to provide light, hope, and soothing views. The two friends stood in line for rolls, yogurt and cheese. Poe chatted briefly with Major Thane Kyrell, who oversaw the coordination of the fighter squadrons. Kyrell was an old friend of General Organa's, who'd recently brought him back into service. Finn didn't speak with the major; his First Order sensibilities still prevented him from addressing a superior officer. So he remained mute until Kyrell excused himself to sit with Kendy Idele, an older woman who taught sharpshooting techniques on base. Finn sat down with Poe near the wall.

"Major Kyrell," Poe said, "flew with my mother in the Alliance. They were buddies. He came to our home on Yavin IV a few times when I was a kid. It's strange to see him here again." He spent a lot of time familiarizing Finn with the Resistance members, sharing backstories and rumors. Like Rey, Finn was well behind the curve in his knowledge of history and politics, so he appreciated Poe's constant efforts.

"Is he married?" The more Finn knew about a person, the better he remembered the biography.

"He was. She died, I'm not sure how." Poe ran a hand through his perpetually disheveled hair. "He married his childhood sweetheart, can you believe that? Faithful from childhood on to just one person? They went to the Academy together, became Imperial officers, and then he defected to the Alliance and they fought against each other 'til the war ended. After that, they…."

Poe trailed off to regard a group of men who'd sat down at the next table. Tig the slicer stared Poe down. "You look tired, Dameron," he called over, not sympathetically.

Poe spoke lightly. "Nah, the run wasn't that bad. At least it's not raining like last week." He turned back to Finn to continue his story. "So, after the war—"

"Mikuru is _mine,_ you know. You had no right." Tig's friends were silent now, their expressions a mixture of curiosity, envy and hostility.

Poe rolled his eyes. Did he have to get into this before he'd finished even one cup of caf? Finn looked at him, eyebrows raised in a silent question.

"I'm pretty sure slavery's illegal in the New Republic," Poe said sardonically.

"She's mine," Tig repeated. "My girlfriend."

"Ex-girlfriend. You dumped her. But if you want her back, you guys should talk it out." Poe gulped down the rest of his drink, and stood. "You ready to go?" he asked Finn.

"No, stay," Tig said, temper rising. "You can't just go around taking what belongs to other men, Dameron."

Poe sat down and leaned towards the slicer, elbows on thighs. He tried to keep his tone thoughtful, polite. "You know, maybe if you'd stop treating women like possessions, you'd have better luck with them. Mikuru's an adult. She knows what she's doin' and what she wants. Respect her choices."

"She doesn't know what she wants. Never has. There's no satisfying that woman."

Poe considered letting that one go, then decided against it. He smirked. "Apparently it's just _you_ who can't satisfy her." That generated a chorus of humiliating "oohs" from his friends.

"You seriously believe you have respect for women? You'll sleep with anyone that identifies as female."

Poe shrugged. "Yeah, maybe, if we both have the same way of looking at things. And only if we both want to. It's called equality. Try it some time." He got up again, beckoning Finn to come along.

The soldiers tried to console their friend. "Don't worry about it, Tig. It's a good thing you dumped that skank."

"Yeah," added another. "There are plenty of available women around here. That Rey, she's a nice piece of ass."

Tig laughed shortly. "Yeah, for a witch. Though who knows what she can 'force' a man to do to her."

A sniper named Trottel licked his lips in appreciation. "Rey's definitely in my sights. Great body."

"Nah, her tits are too small."

Poe and Finn caught each other's eyes. Finn's expression had changed from bemusement to indignation to seething anger. "Let it go," Poe advised in a whisper. He understood Finn's ire—he felt it too—but ranked officers had a certain professionalism to maintain. These guys were just blowing off steam.

Finn shook his head and turned back. "You're not talking about Rey like that," he warned the men.

"Don't upset the stormtrooper, Trottel. He might switch sides again and shoot you."

"Aw, that's why you hang out with Dameron," Tig opined. "You've got no problem with traitors, right, Finn?"

 _Uh-oh_ was the only thought Poe had before Finn launched his fist at Tig's face. The slicer flew backwards, crashing on top of the cheaply-made table, which promptly collapsed. Tig's friends jumped back, then came at Finn, which of course forced Poe to wade into it, and soon enough there were six men brawling.

Some of the Resistance members tried to pull everyone apart, but were rebuffed. Finn wasn't sure what had set him off—Rey being discussed like a piece of meat or the men bringing up his First Order past. He suspected it was the former. But all the frustration of the last few weeks had come bubbling to the surface, so Finn was very happily beating the crap out of the four jerks, until a whistle pierced the air so loudly that his teeth vibrated. Everyone paused to look up.

Major Kyrell and Captain Idele, looking like vengeful gods, moved in between the men. Kyrell bellowed, "Freeze. Now." Trottel lifted his arm to get one more punch at Finn, but Idele got right in his face, glaring, and the arm came down sheepishly.

* * *

All the men received a written reprimand and five days suspension, without pay or duty. The punishment didn't bother Poe very much until later that morning, when he went to find Rey and instead bumped into an older, sharper and much angrier version of her: Leia Organa.

"What the hell was that?" she asked without preamble.

"Uh, good morning, General," Poe began. He knew that tone of voice. Snap Wexley called it 'Organa's don't fuck with me voice,' and it only came out occasionally…when somebody was about to get verbally demolished by the diminutive human flamethrower. Right now, he was the target, unless he could defuse her somehow. "I apologize for my conduct earlier. It was completely uncall—"

"Idiotic," she finished. "Embarrassing. Immature. You're a commander, Poe. You have to rise to a higher level, and expect more of yourself. This isn't the school playground. You don't respond to bullies or fools."

"Yes, ma'am."

"You lack of maturity in this baffles and saddens me. I made you commander of the squadron because I thought you'd be a good role model for the other pilots."

Poe winced internally. "I can be, ma'am."

Organa blew out a breath. "Finn instigated the fight?"

"Well, Lieutenant Tig—"

She cut him off. "If you're about to say, 'Tig started it' like a whiny little brat, I will rip you out of that black X-wing and make you a fly a garbage tug."

"Finn threw the first punch," he admitted instantly.

"Hm," Leia murmured. "That's what he told the admiral." The wrath was suddenly gone from her voice, replaced by thoughtfulness. "I'd like to know why."

"Why he told the admiral that?"

"No, why Finn would start a free-for-all in the middle of breakfast. A one-word explanation would suffice."

"Oh." Poe chewed on his lower lip for a moment. "Well, uh, women."

"Women?" General Organa echoed. "Are you kidding?"

"Lieutenant Tig and his friends were speaking indelicately about Rey."

Organa tilted her head. Poe got the feeling she was using her Force sensitivity to stare right through him. He figured he should come completely clean with her—especially since she probably knew this part anyway—so he added, "And also, the lieutenant was upset that I'd recently had a brief romantic entanglement with his ex-girlfriend." He always spoke formally with General Organa, particularly when he was nervous. Something about her being royalty, he mused.

"So," she summarized with a hint of a smile, "you slept with his girlfriend and he made fun of Rey?"

"They weren't making fun of her," he protested before he could stop himself. She lifted an eyebrow. "They were…talking about her…sexually." Now he was looking at the ground.

"So Finn was defending her honor?" He nodded. "And you were…?"

"Defending Finn."

"Not Rey?"

Poe looked back up. "Yes, Rey too. Both of them." He paused. "One should always show respect when one speaks of comrades."

"I agree," Leia said pointedly. "So one shouldn't punch one's comrades, either."

"No, ma'am," he muttered.

"Your parents would be very disappointed by your lack of restraint," she concluded, with just the right amount of sadness in her voice. "As am I." _She could've been an assassin. She certainly knows how to twist a knife in a gut._

Leia spun on her heel to leave, then turned back to address Poe again. "Rey tells me you're going flying in the _Falcon_ today?"

Surprised, he said, "Uh, yes. If I'm not grounded."

"You're off duty. No flying the X-wing." She shrugged. "But you can go up with Rey for a while."

"Thank you, General." He meant it.

"The hyperdrive breaks easily," she advised. "Don't take her into hyperspace." He nodded. "And the alluvial dampers sometimes go off-line for no reason." Poe nodded again. "There's a compressor that one of the pirates put in and Rey partially ripped out. You should probably take that whole panel apart and fix it properly."

"We can do that, no problem."

Leia looked up into his face, gauging him. She added quietly, "Be careful with her. She's very…special."

"Yes, she certainly is that," he murmured, unsure if they were now talking about Han Solo's beloved ship or the young woman who piloted it. No matter. He meant it both ways.


	5. What's in a Name?

Poe Dameron rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "So, this is the famous cockpit." He ran his gaze slowly and admiringly along the instrument panel; it looked just like it did in the simulations he'd run. More or less.

"What's this thing?" he asked Rey.

"Oh, you can ignore that. It's a compressor, used pre-lift-off. Unk—one of the previous owners installed it. It doesn't work anymore, though. I ran a bypass so you don't need to prime the engines."

Poe nodded. "Seems redundant."

"Uh-huh."

The start-up switches were mostly located on the ceiling panel. Poe flipped them, then flopped down into the captain's chair. "It's more comfy than I'd imagined. Softer than my X-wing."

"Well, don't make yourself too much at home. That's my seat." Rey thought about touching his arm, to pry him up. She held her hand just above his shoulder, then decided it wouldn't be proper, so she settled for a friendly punch in his forearm. "Move it."

He swiveled in the seat to look at her. "I've got more experience flying this size ship. I should captain her."

"No, _I'm_ the captain. I've flown her several times already, long distance; I know what I'm doing."

"So do I. I can fly anything. C'mon, Rey, let me fly her. Please." He used his best sad-puppy expression, his tone wheedling.

"No," she ordered, trying to sound like a general. "Up. Out."

"But you said…"

"My ship, my rules." She paused, thinking of a compromise. "I'll fly her out, then you can take over."

Poe reluctantly rose from the chair. "She's not really _your_ ship," he grumbled, sinking into the oversized copilot's seat.

She smiled in triumph, settling herself into the captain's chair. "You're pouting," she commented lightly.

"Not as bad as you pouted when you didn't get the X-wing all to yourself."

She giggled. "That's true." She checked the ignition switches and instrument panel lights; everything looked good. She flipped on the comlink. "D'Qar control? Millennium Falcon, requesting permission to launch."

"Control here, Falcon. You're cleared. General Organa reminds you not to let Commander Dameron do anything stupid."

Rey shot him a look. He gave her an exasperated shrug. "Really?" she asked the voice on the com, not really surprised.

"Yeah, her words, not mine. Have a nice flight, Falcon. Base out."

"Why do women always have to get the last word in?" Poe asked the air around him.

Rey nudged the throttle forward and grinned at him.

* * *

Once they were out of D'Qar's atmosphere and orbiting the planet, Rey gave Poe the conn. It was only fair, she reasoned; he _had_ let her pilot his pet X-wing, without even knowing how good a pilot she'd be. Rey already knew of Poe's skills, so that wasn't a concern. And he clearly had been practicing YT simulations, because he knew where all the switches were despite the _Falcon's_ rather unorthodox setup.

Poe's first idea was to navigate through the flying chunks of rock which comprised the ring around the planet.

"What are you doing?" Rey objected. "You're not going _in_ to an asteroid field."

"It's not really an asteroid field; it's less random than that," Poe argued, waving his hand like a professor at a podium.

"Both hands on the steering…."

He threw her a look but complied. "The rocks are pulled in by D'Qar's gravity, so they move in a predictable way."

"Not that predictable."

"Well, pretty predictable. So, you want to try it?" He gave her an eager grin. "Come on, I know you want to."

Rey pursed her lips and looked away from him, seeing the Ileenium system in profile. It did sound like fun…but she felt she needed to be the responsible one here. "Let's fly around the moons first. D'Qar has two moons, right? I'd like to see them up close."

"Sure," he obliged, angling the ship towards the closer of the two spheres. "Do you know their names?"

"What, the moons' names?"

"Yeah. I ask, 'cause I actually don't. Most of the Resistance fighters are too busy—or too jaded—to look up and just, you know, admire the sky."

"No, I don't know either," she murmured, lost in thought. Admiring the sky.

"Well," Poe said, "let's name them." He noticed he'd lost her attention, and nudged her gently with an elbow. "You still awake?"

Apparently, she was. "Both hands on the steering column," she said flatly.

Poe smirked, then flipped a switch. The _Falcon_ rotated until she was upside down, and then kept spinning.

"Hey!" Rey squealed indignantly, holding onto the sides of the oversized copilot's chair. The ship was supposed to compensate for sudden torque, but—like lots of things onboard—it didn't work that well. Just one more system that Rey was going to need to tweak a little.

"Maybe you want to buckle up?" Poe said breezily.

"This chair is made for a Wookiee! The belt doesn't fit me." She fought to hold on. "Would you please level out!"

Poe flipped the switch back, and the ship obediently straightened up. "Sorry," he said. "This really is a fun ship to fly. Also, I really don't like being told what to do." He glanced at Rey, who was simultaneously trying to regain her composure, sit elegantly, and straighten her ponytails. "Why don't you ever wear it down?" he asked suddenly.

"Wear what down?"

"Your hair."

She frowned at him. "Are you normally this…all over the place…when you speak?"

"Who's all over the place?"

Rey folded her arms across her chest. "I am _not_ telling you what to do; I would just like to keep this ship in one piece, as 'fun' as she is. Secondly, I don't wear my hair down because, well, on Jakku it was more practical to keep it out of my face whilst I climbed, and my neck got all sweaty if my hair was down. And finally, yes, I would like to name the moons."

Poe put the _Falcon_ into a gentle orbit around the first moon, then switched into autopilot and sat back. "Okay, then." He looked at the terrain: mostly barren land and gray sand. "This is a boring piece of rock. It needs a boring name."

"Or maybe it needs a really beautiful name, so it has something to aim at. You know, to live up to high expectations."

Poe laughed. "I like that idea. It has to be a woman's name, I think. A moon is always female in poetry, isn't it?"

"What's poetry?"

He raised his eyebrows. "You didn't learn poetry at school?"

She shrugged. "I was a scavenger in a desert. There was no schooling." Rey was getting tired of reminding everyone what her childhood had been like. She was also beginning to resent all the looks of pity, although Poe was at least different in that regard. He didn't condescend; he just sometimes forgot where she'd come from.

True to form, he answered her question without talking down to her. "Poetry is a written or verbal expression of your emotions or environment."

"Isn't that just called _talking?"_

He laughed again. "Uh, yeah. No. Kinda." She was squinting at him. "Poetry usually has rhythm and rhyme. And it tries to use pretty words, and metaphors for actual events. Like…okay, I had to memorize this poem in school. It was written on a planet with just one moon, and the poet thought the moon might be sad and lonely:

 _"Are you pale for weariness  
Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth,  
Wandering companionless  
Among the stars that have a different birth,  
And ever changing, like a Joyless eye  
That finds no object of worth?"_

Rey stared at Poe with wonder, then asked him to repeat the poem. After the second recitation, she commented, "That moon looks at her planet the way I used to look out at the sand dunes. With a joyless eye. I still looked, though. Every evening."

"Hopefully you weren't quite as lonely as the companionless moon. You had friends growing up?"

She stared out the cockpit window at the lifeless rock below. "No, not actually," she murmured. After a moment of silence, she turned back to him, brightening. "Anyway, I'm here now. Let's name those moons."

Poe was thrown by the quick change of topic. _She's as inconstant as a moon herself._ "Right," he said briskly. "We want to give the moons something to aspire to. How about we name them for women we admire?"

Rey thought for a moment. "I admire General Organa more than anyone else."

"Ah, that's just what I was thinking. So this moon is…Organa? Or Leia?" He shook his head. "It feels wrong to use her given name."

"Yes, let's go with Organa. And the second moon?"

Poe offered, "My mother was a spectacular person. I mean, I guess every kid thinks that about their mom, but I…have really deep respect for mine."

Rey looked at him. He'd never mentioned his family to her before. "What's her name?"

"Shara."

"Shara Dameron?" Rey tried the phrase out on her tongue and decided she liked it. "Shall we go with that, or is it too long?"

"Shara Bey, actually. She kept her family name."

"Bey? That rhymes with Rey."

"Yeah, you're right. That had never occurred to me." He thought it over. "I guess I just think of her as 'mom,' y'know? Not by her name."

"Well," Rey concluded, "I like Shara for moon two. My only other idea was to call the moon Prey."

He mulled over the name. "And Predator for the other one?"

"Sure. I was just thinking of 'prey' as a combination of our names."

"Oh," he smiled. "That's smart." He ran a hand across his jaw. "I think I'd rather be predator than prey, though."

"Oh, you certainly are." She didn't mean the sentence to sound as flattering as it came out. He threw her a surprised look, and her eyes skipped away.

Poe decided to ignore the comment. "So, the General asked us to fix the open panel here." He gestured at the loose wires above Rey's head. She had ripped the malfunctioning compressor out for Han, en route to Takodana. She hadn't touched the panel since then. It reminded her of the few happy hours she'd spent with her father, and she would have been content to keep the wires loose and dangling forever, a metaphor for the truncated relationship with her father.

But she couldn't explain all that to Poe. So she helped him repair the damage and seal the panel again, the cut wires now hidden from view like scar tissue.

After the repairs, Poe and Rey rewarded themselves with a rousing albeit hazardous ride through D'Qar's asteroid belt. This was probably what General Organa had meant when she warned them not to "do anything stupid," but they did it anyway. The temptation of fun and challenge was just too great to ignore. First he piloted, then she, and they both tried to outdo each other with tricks and manoeuvers that took them within a hairsbreadth of flying rocks.

Rey's cheeks were flushed pink from the exhilaration of navigating her ship, particularly with a copilot who could guess her choices and moves as if he had Jedi intuition. The harder the flying got, the more their minds worked as one, adjusting course and shields without much need for conversation. And if their fingers brushed while flipping switches on the control panel, they didn't have time to mention it.

* * *

 ** _The poem that Poe recites ("To the Moon") was shamelessly stolen,_** ** _with a few minor changes, from Percy Bysshe Shelley. He was a Romantic poet who, I imagine, would've shipped Poe and Rey. I really did try to come up with an original poem. I failed. Sorry._**


	6. Epilogue

Still on suspension, Finn and Poe weren't allowed to take their meals at the scene of the previous day's brawl. They were therefore on their way to the mess hall before the official dinner time began.

Poe was still feeling the adrenaline effects of his flight with Rey, and was in the process of telling Finn about his day. "So we leave the _Falcon_ , and the last thing she said to me was that she was going to write some 'reyetry' tonight."

"Some what?"

"I know, right? It took me two minutes to figure out what she was talking about."

Finn looked confused. "What _was_ she talking about?"

"I explained poetry to her."

"Uh-huh…."

"And I'm Poe." He pointed at his chest. "So if _she_ wants to write some…"

"Oh, Rey-etry! I get it." Finn laughed. "That's pretty good."

"Right? So I'm in the middle of the hanger, still mulling over what she'd said. Admiral Statura comes up to me, to bawl me out about getting suspended, you know, and right in the middle of his lecture, I figure it out and start laughing."

"Did the admiral go supernova?"

Poe smirked. "Well, I kinda covered it up. But…well, you can never tell with him. His face always looks so calm."

They were silent for a moment. Then Finn piped up. "Betcha she'll write a poem about me before she writes one about you."

"What's there to say about you?"

"You know, I'm her hero and all."

"Oh, yeah, I forgot." Poe paused. "She'll probably write about the night sky. Or sand. Or the sensation of flight. Not people."

Finn looked incredulous. "I'll take that bet. Ten credits. Why would she write a poem about _sand?_ Or the sky? _"_

With a start, Poe realized that he might understand Rey better than Finn did. He shrugged it off. "I spent all morning with her, so I'm an expert now."

Finn threw him an apprehensive glance. "And you're in love with her, too?"

"Of course not. I just…we actually have some things in common. We have fun together. She's a lot different than the other women I know."

The men had made it to the mess hall, and were now headed back to Finn's quarters, carrying their dinners on steel trays.

Finn was increasingly uneasy about Poe's train of thought. "How so? Besides flying, I mean."

"She's more honest. And enthusiastic, you know?" Poe considered. "Everything here is new to her, so she really savors every experience, every conversation, everything. It's fun to watch her."

"So," Finn surmised, "you're like a teacher to her." He felt better about that idea: Poe as a flight instructor.

"Yeah, kinda." Poe nodded slowly, though that was not the word he would have used. _Teacher? I wonder what it would be like to teach her how to kiss._ He squelched that thought bubble before it expanded.

Finn grinned. "Okay, so I'll be her hero, and you'll be the old, wise professor."

"Hey," Poe protested. "I ain't that old, and you ain't that heroic."

Finn, always quick to laughter, smiled again. Then his face grew more reflective. "But now you get what I see in her, right? You like her?"

Dameron hesitated. "Sure, I like her," he said mildly.

"Me too." Finn sighed. "It's not love, I don't think. I just like her, and want to know her better. Or maybe it is love. Have you ever been in love?"

"No," Poe admitted.

"Well, even if it's not exactly, you know, 'love,' what if we both like her and she actually picks one of us? It could wreck our friendship, right? Have you ever liked a woman, and she went for your best friend instead?"

"No," Dameron said again.

A peal of laughter came from behind them. They'd both forgotten they were in a rather public corridor, and anyone could be listening. Poe and Finn looked first at each other, then slowly turned around. Luke Skywalker was right behind them, smiling pleasantly. "That happened to me once," the Jedi said lightly.

Finn gasped audibly, then sputtered, "Master…sir… Jedi...Mr. Master Skywalker?"

Poe rolled his eyes at his friend. _Mister master? Either make sense, Finn, or shut up._ "Good evening, Master Skywalker," Poe said in what he hoped was a conversational tone of voice.

Luke bowed slightly to them. "Hi. I didn't mean to eavesdrop. Hope you don't mind."

"No, of course not." Finn had reconnected his brain.

"I was just going to say, that happened to me once. I loved a girl, and she fell for my best friend."

"Oh." Poe had believed Jedi weren't allowed to fall in love. _But if he can, maybe Rey can._ Berating himself for letting these ideas again creep into his head, he stopped mid-stream and instead asked, "Did it ruin your friendship?"

Finn added, "Did you kill the guy?"

Luke laughed gently. "No, and no. The three of us just had to…redefine the parameters of our relationships."

Finn scowled, thinking. "You didn't try to steal her away from him later?"

Luke shook his head. "Steal her away from Han Solo? Impossible."

Poe and Finn both said "Oh!" simultaneously. Finn laughed. "Oh, Solo? You had no chance at all. That's not even a competition." Then he remembered whom he was addressing, and wiped the grin off his face. "Master," he added seriously. "Sir."

Luke smiled easily. "You can call me Luke. Would you like to come to my quarters? I'll tell you the whole story."

* * *

By the time they finished eating dinner with Luke Skywalker, Poe and Finn had realized a few things. One was that he was much better company than they'd imagined. Finn in particular had been raised with the view that Jedi were deceitful, politically self-motivated, and always dangerous. This evening had blown all of those theories. Luke was simply a nice guy, and despite his age, he retained a boyish sort of charm when he spoke. His stories were plentiful, funny and entertaining—including the one about how his first crush turned out to be his sister.

Another realization Finn and Poe had made by the end of dinner was that there was strength in a trio. Luke's stories all revolved around the triumvirate of Han Solo, Princess Leia and himself, and the unshakeable love which bound the three of them together. The Jedi master seemed to be hoping that the two young men might form a similar partnership with Rey. She was Luke's apprentice and he obviously thought of her as a daughter. So Poe and Finn felt honored that he even considered them suitable company for Rey, let alone her best prospects for friends.

The final conclusion they had reached was about the nature of friendship itself. "In a war," Luke told them, "you have to trust that your friends would do anything and everything to protect you. Even on the day we met, Han ran headlong at a squad of stormtroopers just to get them away from Leia and me…to protect us, you see? We never, ever went into battle without the absolute faith that the other two would be there as backup." But Luke stressed that their friendship had come first—not lust. He and Solo might have "entertained some romantic thoughts" about their beautiful comrade, and maybe she thought of Han the same way, but nobody acted upon it until their friendship was solidly constructed. "That has to be the foundation," Luke told them.

And so, as Poe and Finn left Luke's quarters to return to their own rooms, they decided to heed the Jedi's advice and just focus on deepening their friendship with Rey. "We'll just be there for each other—you're the pilot, she's the one with the lightsaber, and I'm the soldier," Finn resolved.

Poe smiled affectionately. "I thought you were the hero."

"Yeah, on the ground. The soldier-hero. You can be the hero in the air." Finn smirked, recalling their first meeting. "You can 'fly anything,' right?"

"Hell yeah, I can." Poe paused. "So can she," he admitted.

"Well, then, the two of you can be the pilots. But no more thinking of her as, you know…." He stumbled.

"As a woman?"

"Right. She's not a woman."

Poe squinted at his friend. "She is, though."

"Not a beautiful one."

Poe twisted his lip. "She is, though," he repeated.

Finn stopped walking and punched Poe's arm. "She's not! She's just our friend."

"Got it."

"And maybe," Finn concluded, "someday, if she decided to see one of us as more than that, you know, then maybe we'd..."

"Redefine the parameters of our relationships," Poe finished for him, quoting Skywalker. "I think you're right. We'll let Rey grow up a little more, and decide what she wants for herself. And in the meantime, we'll just work on cementing our friendships with each other."

Finn smiled at his buddy. "You've already given me a name. That's a lot."

"Yeah, but the real question is, would you charge into a squad of stormtroopers for me?"

Finn nodded. "Absolutely."

Poe grinned back at his friend. "Yeah, so would I."

 _ **Finis**_

* * *

 _ **And so our new triumvirate is established. Will they all stay friends? Will Rey choose romance some day? And if so, will she go for the dashing pilot or the cute-as-a-button warrior? If you want to find out my thoughts on the subject, read "Charged Particles." (Or just ask yourself: what would Leia do?) (I ask myself that a lot; it's one of my guiding principles in life.)**_

 _ **And please leave me a review. I love reviews.**_

 _ **Thanks for reading!**_


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